


Solus

by gostisbehere (castielsstarr)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Autofellatio, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, references to braden/others
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 18:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10418856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielsstarr/pseuds/gostisbehere
Summary: While warming up for a game, Holtby wonders whether he would be flexible enough to suck his own cock. Then he decides to try it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Holy fuck, this is a thing that my brain decided to do. My first attempt at writing something that isn't in the Supernatural fandom. Hope it's ok! Obviously, this didn't happen and please don't ever show this to the involved party.

Flexibility was one of the must-have abilities for a goaltender. Their muscles needed to be able to withstand the stretch of some of the more acrobatic stops. Braden knew this. It was one of his strong suits, actually. He'd developed his warmup routine over years and years of practice, and the stretching was one of the most important parts to him. That's where he was currently, with his body bent practically in two, knees resting against the floor by his head, the stretch pulling out the tightness in his lower back that had been lingering.

Only tonight he was a little more distracted than normal.

Tonight his brain decided to consider whether he'd be able to suck his own cock from this position.

In all the years of doing this stretch, he'd never thought about it before. So why now? Why the fuck couldn't he just have prepped for the game like normal?

Braden uncurled, gently bringing his lower body back to the floor and he wasn't surprised to find himself half hard in his shorts. Nobody was likely to come in—they knew better than to interrupt his warmup—but he still casually draped his hand over the forming bulge.

He would be stupid to try it. There was no way he could actually do that. Yeah, there were some people on the internet that could suck themselves, but they were practically fucking contortionists. He was just decently flexible. His cock was a little on the long side, though...

No. Just, no. Thinking about it was making him harder—Braden ground the heel of his palm into his erection. _Focus. You've got a game tonight. This cannot draw your attention away._

It took a long ten minutes of concentrated breathing before he softened again and was able to focus back on his routine.

\-----

It was an easy win against the Avalanche. Both defense and offense were on their game, Oshie one goal shy of a hatty and Carlson dropping to the ice quite a few times to stop pucks with own padding before it came close to Holtby. At the end, Alzner was by his side as always to congratulate him and the team on their win.

The thought from earlier had been in the back of his mind through the whole game and it prevented him from saying yes when Karl asked if he wanted to come grab a drink. Braden wasn't going to try it, but he was kind of itching with the need to get off. It had been a few days and having a night to himself would help with the tension.

Showering at the rink wasn’t necessarily a private affair, though the partitions were enough of a shield from any wandering eyes. The warmth of the water soaked in, easing the aches from the game, and the erection that he’d had to stave off earlier returned. Choosing to ignore it, he soaped up, fingers digging into the well-worked muscle of his shoulders. More soap and Braden washed clean the sweat from his chest—he couldn’t quite ignore the way his cock twitched when the touch brushed over his nipples.

He didn’t involve his hands while rinsing off, once again needing his erection to flag so he could get dressed and head home. Yeah, he’d heard a couple of his teammates jacking it in the showers after a match before, but he’d already waited this long. Waiting until he got home and he could be alone and comfortable was worth it.

Luckily, he was soft before the water ran cold.

\-----

Braden sighed as his weight settled against the mattress. This was one of his favorite things—getting to stretch out and relax in bed after a game. He’d already peeled the suit off, hanging it up to be taken to the dry cleaners, and hadn’t bothered to change into sweatpants. They were just going to come off anyway.

He’d been struggling to stay soft on the way home, leaving behind a faint wet spot on the front of his boxer-briefs. Rubbing the dampness gently with the pad of his finger, the stimulation directly against the head of his cock, it hardened quickly under his touch. It would be so easy to get off with a couple minutes of rough tugs, but this needed to be the type of orgasm that left him puddled on his bed, unable to move. He wanted it to make him tired enough to drift to sleep right afterward, and for that he needed to take his time.

Even through the material, his hand was warm when it slipped further down to cup his balls, the loose skin already starting to tighten. He only allowed himself a short moment of attention, running his thumb briefly between them and gasping with the feeling. The tips of Braden’s fingers pressed underneath to rub against his perineum, making him shiver. It already felt so fucking good—each touch stoking the steady burn in his lower belly.

With eyes closed, he couldn’t help imagining a mouth around his cock. The heat and slickness of someone sucking him down. Didn’t always matter how skilled they were and how deep he could fit down their throat—some of the best blowjobs Braden had ever received were from players that he met on the road that had never come near another dude’s dick before. What mattered was how willing to learn they were and also how eager to please. His intimidating stare on the ice attracted those who wanted it directed at them.

Instead of seeing some random team’s rookie, though, it was his own mouth he saw wrapped around his cock. Fuck, no. He wasn’t going to think about this again, hell no. Still, the image lingered in his mind and as much as he tried to conjure some kid he’d ruined on a previous road game, he was only seeing himself.

_Goddammit._ It was so stupid to still be wondering about this. But… what if it worked?

With a resigned sigh, he lifted his hips and wriggled out of his underwear, the fabric wanting to cling to the thickness of his thighs. Braden tossed them aside and settled again—god, the head of his cock was already slick with precome and he was so hard it ached. Maybe that would make it easier.

Fine, he was just going to test and see if it was possible.

His abs tightened, pulling his legs into the air and setting his feet on the bed behind him. The stretch felt so normal that he was almost about to slip into the headspace needed to prepare for a game. Even though he was still loose from their earlier match, Braden was going to take it easy and he could feel the smallest tension ease in his lower back as he settled just a little deeper. When he was comfortable, he spread his legs slightly wider, enough to accommodate his head and place his knees down to the mattress.

Jesus, fuck. His cock was right there, heavy and leaking and he couldn’t believe this was going to work. It twitched when Braden took a sharp breath, another drop of precome pearling at the tip before dripping onto his chin. It was too far down to clean without his hands, but he wanted to taste it. Of course, he knew the smell and flavor of himself—what guy hasn’t tried some of his own come—but the idea of getting it directly from the source? Shit, he was throbbing, more slick pulsing out and he surged forward, grabbing at the backs of his thighs for more leverage.

It was just the tip of his tongue ghosting over the head, but he caught the latest droplet before it could fall. Gasping was difficult with the current strain on his lungs, but the feeling forced the noise regardless. Shit, that was his own tongue licking at him and he gave another wet lap to gather anything he missed on the first pass.

God, he didn’t need to give direction to anyone this way. Braden knew what he liked and he could have at it. After just a moment to breathe, he leaned into it again, this time taking the fat head into his mouth, lips catching on the ridge.

He suckled his cock, more precome spreading over his tongue and he moaned around it repeatedly. All of the noises were unintentional, each one pulling out the next as the vibration traveled down his length and, fuck, he was starting to shake and it wasn’t because of lack of air. Losing control was imminent and if he wanted to last, Braden needed to pull back.

Just a little more. He’d ease up in a minute, but it felt so good. Maybe just a few licks and then he’d settle down again, draw it out.

One proved to be too much because when the tip of his tongue pressed roughly into his slit, his balls drew up tight, and the first strong pulse of come hit the roof of his mouth. Startled, he drew back, cock slipping from between his lips, the rest of his load splatter onto his cheeks, neck and his opened, panting mouth.

Braden’s head was floating before his muscles eased, still shuddering as the spasms subsided. It tasted different, better, getting it like this. Being able to feel the twitch as he came inside his own mouth. Next time he would be expecting it and he would be able to catch his whole load.

Next time.

There definitely would be a next time.

God, he was so fucked.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on Tumblr, I promise I don't bite:  
> General hockey blog: [gostisbhere.tumblr.com](http://www.gostisbhere.tumblr.com)  
> Shipping hockey blog: [mousemarns](http://www.mousemarns.tumblr.com)


End file.
